Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

It’s a strange thing to think in this moment, but it feels weird and wrong on even more than obvious levels that this has to be Erika’s bedroom. There are trophies, sashes, ribbons, and pom poms displayed all over, a lavender bedspread covering her mattress. They probably had sex on this bed when they were together.

I no more than think that and Carter shifts my weight and shoves me down on the bed. Since he gave me a push, I hit the mattress hard. I immediately shove up to my hands and knees, trying to climb back off, but he’s right there to stop me.

Fear explodes inside me as he comes down on top of me, flattening my body against the pillowy surface. I’m tummy down and he’s straddling my ass, grabbing my arms, pinning them at my sides.

I shake my head in denial. Not like this. It can’t happen like this. “Carter, please.”

His voice is harder, more commanding than I expect. “Calm down.” Then instead of keeping me pinned here like this, he flips me over on my back. He still pins me before I can get away from him, but at least now he’s looking at me. I can see his face. I don’t have any more control than I had a moment ago, I guess, but it feels like I have more ground this way. I stand a better chance of appealing to him if he can see the emotions playing out on my face.

Actually, probably not. He’s a fucking maniac.

Instead of feeding him more fear, which I know he likes, I do my best to clear that off my face. I shake my head and level my heaviest look of disappointment at him. “Was it all fake, then? Was every interaction since that classroom bullshit? This is all you wanted—why didn’t you just take it at lunch Wednesday? You had me alone in your car.”

“I told you, I was trying to be nice,” he states. “And no, it was not all fake. None of it was fake. I made it clear I liked you. I must have asked you out half a dozen times. You said no every time.”

My eyes bug out. “Yes, Carter. I said no.”

He shrugs. “So, I had to get creative. You could’ve just gone to the movies with me last night and then Grace wouldn’t be drunk right now, but you always have to fight tooth and nail.”

Shaking my head, I tell him, “That’s not trying, Carter. Are you really so spoiled that you consider that a great effort?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says casually. “You’re here now, little virgin.”

I swallow, a feeling of foreboding sweeping over me as I look up at him. I’m full of anger because I knew this would happen if I came here tonight, but Grace gave me no other choice. I could let him hurt her, or show up and risk him hurting me.

It’s too late, so there’s no point thinking about that anymore. I need to get out of this and I don’t know how. My skin is still hot from the surge of adrenaline, from the effort of fighting him off. It’s hard to think with him on top of me like this, and then he makes matters worse, reaching down and casually slipping two buttons through their holes on my skirt.

“Carter, no.” I shove his hand away and start to rebutton, but before I can get even the first one fixed, he shifts, grabs my wrists, and shoves them over my head on the mattress. The movement brings his body closer, brings his face close to mine.

My heart skips several beats at how easily he holds me down when I’m fighting against him with all my strength. His dark eyes hold mine captive. I can’t look away. They don’t betray even a shadow of conflict. Instead, they sparkle, like he couldn’t be more pleased that this is happening. It’s terrifying, his disregard for right and wrong. The pleasure he gets out of making me powerless. He knows I am. I try to push his hands away with another burst of effort and his arms don’t move an inch, even using all my strength to shove at him.

“You like having me at your mercy?” I demand, my tone scathing.

Without remorse, he says, “I do.”

I try to free myself again, but it’s like trying to push a truck off me—useless. I don’t have the physical strength or stamina to match his. My body doesn’t go through the same rigorous training, so every burst of effort takes much more out of me than it does him. Cartwright’s words ring out in my mind: We’re champions.

I’m losing energy—and heart—with every failed attempt to get him off me. I’m breathing hard, flooded with so many different emotions; meanwhile, Carter hasn’t broken a sweat. He’s just waiting me out.